


Slow Burn

by AirgiodSLV



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-08
Updated: 2005-04-08
Packaged: 2019-07-20 10:43:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16135604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: It’s not like it hasn’t happened before, but it’s always a shock, every time. The surprise of it, the moments of white-blind panic and exhilaration before he fully realizes what’s going on. Wondering what Elijah has thought up this time, and how Dom will make himself survive it.





	Slow Burn

**Author's Note:**

> For my wives, who sustain and inspire me. Thanks to Brenna for the beta.
> 
> Content/Warnings: Mild s/D.

It’s not like it hasn’t happened before, but it’s always a shock, every time. The surprise of it, the moments of white-blind panic and exhilaration before he fully realizes what’s going on. Wondering what Elijah has thought up this time, and how Dom will make himself survive it.

Tonight it’s restraints, and something more that Dom isn’t awake enough to process. Elijah’s woken him up with handcuffs, his wrists looped easily on either side of the vertical bar in the center of the headboard. His legs are spread as well, ankles cinched tight and tethered, and that’s unusual enough to make him squirm, testing.

Elijah’s a warm weight beside him, stroking gently and hushing. Elijah’s leg is draped half-over his, arm wrapped snugly around Dom’s chest, and his presence eases some of the disorientation Dom feels upon wakening, jerked out of badly-needed sleep into darkness and near-silence.

It’s still the middle of the night; and he’d thought that they were both too tired to play tonight, but he must have been wrong. Elijah doesn’t tease without following through, and Dom’s body is hardwired to recognize handcuffs and ankle restraints as one hell of a fucking tease.

 _Shh,_ Elijah soothes, no words yet so Dom doesn’t open his mouth to ask questions, just licks his lips and tries to relax. It’s difficult; his body is strung taut, aching against the restraints, and his hands curl and uncurl plaintively in a plea for some sort of direction, completion. He doesn’t know what Elijah wants, and he can’t stand not being able to give it.

Elijah’s hands drift lower, and Dom feels the inside of his thighs being stroked, the sensitive skin of his balls. He shivers and Elijah presses a smile to the stretched muscle of Dom’s shoulder, a silent, laughing kiss. Elijah’s hands are busy with something, and Dom tries to figure out what it is but can’t, tries to relax and ignore it but can’t do that either, needing to know what’s coming, what he needs to prepare for.

He tenses all over when he feels it, the push-and-nudge against his entrance, the slow, dry glide of something sinking in. Not Elijah; this is cold plastic, hard and strong, unyielding when Dom clamps down around it and shudders. _Shh,_ again, so Dom drags in a deep breath and wills himself to submit, does what he does best and lets Elijah in.

He knows what this is now, recognizes it even though he’s never felt it inside of him, slowly stretching him open and splitting him around an absolutely unbending shaft. Elijah had seen it in a catalog once, called him over and purred into his ear, _like that, don’t you,_ and Dom hadn’t bothered to hide it, cock swelling to life between his legs, Elijah’s hand curling into a fist around him while they both stared at the picture.

It must have come today, or else Elijah is more patient than Dom gives him credit for. It’s not impossible, Elijah can be patient when he thinks there’s a benefit from it. But this has the ear-markings of wanting to wait and then failing, or perhaps wanting it to be just like this, total ice-water shock like a slap in the face as Dom surfaces into wakefulness, hard and smooth phallus inside of him so deeply now that he can barely breathe around it.

Elijah twists and it burns, no lube, nothing but Dom’s friction-dragging skin and the silky plastic finish, fighting him for every inch as Elijah twists just that little bit harder, _up_ and _in._ Dom groans, bites his lip to be good for Elijah and hears Elijah’s laugh, soft and breathy, hot against the sweat on his neck.

They’ve picked a good one, he’d known it even before feeling it, just reading the description and getting prickles along his arms and legs. Prostate stimulator, the wicked curve of a bump resting against his perineum, shaft long enough to ache and wide enough to hurt, but just barely. And the kicker, the thing Dom’s forgotten about until now, when Elijah presses his lips to Dom’s shoulder again, hand between Dom’s legs, and flicks the switch.

He whimpers, can’t help it, too wound up to do anything else, stretched taut between wrists and ankles with this _thing_ between his legs, low-level vibrations sending shocks in ripples all the way through his insides. Elijah shushes him yet again, but the sound is gentle, soothing and not angry. Not displeased. Dom swallows the next moan rising to free itself and breathes out through his nose, obedient. He can feel Elijah’s pleasure like a sunburst on his skin, warming him from the inside out.

It takes him a few minutes to recognize that Elijah has gone still beside him, wrapped around him but just breathing, waiting, and Dom realizes with an almost physical shock that nothing more is happening. He makes a panicked noise, interrogative but rising high, and Elijah responds with another soft quieting sound and a gentle squeeze of his body against Dom’s. It’s another second or two before Dom really gets it, understands, and when he does it’s almost too horrible to contemplate.

Elijah wants him to sleep. Elijah is falling asleep right now, body relaxed and mellowed, and he’s waiting for Dom to do the same. Only Dom can’t, not like this, not while he’s hard and full and _aching,_ not when he needs Elijah as badly as he does right now.

 _I’m here,_ Elijah says wordlessly, with the touch of his lips just above Dom’s nipple and the curve of his hand around Dom’s hipbone. _I’m not leaving you._ But it’s too much with Elijah not caressing him, not in motion, not commanding so that Dom can intuit his needs. It’s too much when his body is strung-out with tension, spread open and penetrated and filled, and no relief in sight.

He shifts his hips experimentally, a little desperately, but there’s no getting free of this. The vibrations course through him inexorably, and the very slight friction he can get he already knows won’t be enough. Besides, there’s still Elijah, touching his lower belly with an open hand, chastising gently and making Dom’s ears burn hot. He can’t come like this, his body doesn’t have enough momentum, but the sensation is too much for him to just relax and go back to sleep.

It’s a slow burn, the buzz of the phallus inside of him and the ticking of the clock nearby, numbers hidden in the darkness, hours meaningless, out of time. Dom swallows and tries to bear it, tries to be strong so that Elijah will finish it in the morning, reward him with lips and tongue and teeth, praise him so that Dom’s entire body sings.

He’s still tired, so fucking exhausted he could have wept, but Elijah is there, burning him up, restraining him. Holding him down with the weight of an arm slack with sleep, and the trust of his body curled easily next to Dom’s as Dom pants and squeezes his eyes closed, fighting the wash of pleasure that ebbs and flows, stemming from between his legs and rippling outwards, flooding him.

He can’t do this. He can’t. He _can’t._ But the words won’t come, he can open his mouth to speak but nothing will come out, sound choked by the knowledge of Elijah resting peacefully beside him, knowing that Dom will eventually submit and succumb. Just as he always does. And Dom can’t disappoint him, _won’t,_ and wouldn’t even if it was Elijah between his legs, whispering _don’t come, Dom, just hold on, do this for me._

Hold on, he tells himself, hold on. It can’t be that far until morning. His body arches and relaxes, muscles finally giving in under the pressure and releasing, limbs unfurling against the damp cotton of the sheets. _Hold on,_ he thinks, and Elijah sighs against him, silent echo, _I’m not going anywhere._

Dom closes his eyes and breathes.


End file.
